Illusions
by Hume
Summary: Sephiroth was defeated. Meteor was destroyed. Peace was restored in Gaia at last. But what was missing? Cloud visited the remains of Midgar to seek answers...and a certain someone. C/A challenge from Princess of the Knight.


﻿_final fantasy vii and all its characters © square-enix, inc_

.

.

**Illusions**

.

Rain showered Midgar like little Supernova meteorites.

The deed was done. It was all over. Meteor was destroyed. Holy had finished its task.

Midgar was now in ruins. The grand, vast, artificial city had met its demise. Strong plates made contact with the ground. Black covering clouds were no longer a swathe to the robust edifice.

Amidst the remains were helpless citizens, looking for their lost relative, friend, or lover. Not little of them were found in tears, weeping for the people they had lost. Nothing mattered now. Rich or poor. Plate or slums. Everything appeared the same.

The twenty-one-year-old Nibel stood lifelessly. Downpours of water doused every detail of his five-foot-seven figure. His typical blond, thorned hair surrendered to the soak. He looked as if he sought forgiveness, hoping the rain would cleanse the sins he was yet to atone. He wished he could vanish, become one with the rain, and eventually make his way to the Lifestream, where his lost loved ones were.

He never said goodbye properly to his mother, his best friend and...the flower girl he met in front of Loveless.

After weeks of endless adventure, all this seemed surreal to him.

A stroke of emptiness invaded his heart. A part of him missed the long quest in the Highwind, but...No, who was he fooling? As much as he enjoyed, loved and missed the travels, the first thing they could ever give him was...a distraction. Yes—he hated to admit, but truthfully—a distraction. Every little thing they did made him forget of reality...Reality of the people who died for his sake.

He raised his head, looking for answers in the monsoon.

"Will...they ever forgive me?"

And there it happened.

Harsh drizzles blurred his eyesight. Nonetheless, he was sure of it. In front of what was the Loveless billboard, a figure in pink emerged. A woman carrying a basket of flowers. A nostalgic sight.

She was exactly as he remembered her. Albeit unclear, he can easily spot the large magenta ribbon, dull crimson jacket, and chocolate long locks. He also sensed the same peculiar air; mysterious yet serene. It was _her_, but it was impossible. Flashes of memory from the Forgotten Capital gushed into his mind. A seven-foot masamune was thrusted through her heart. The tragedy occurred in mere, slow-motioned seconds.

He began to think he was losing his mind. Guilty, weak and mystified, he must have lost his sanity and materialized hallucinations. Why, it happened before. He would not be surprised if his remaining Jenova cells develop schizophrenia.

The delicate-looking brunette moved her feet. She did what she always did; giving flowers as if it would make everyone's day better. A flower was placed on every fallen soul, followed by a short prayer. She also gived to survivors, an ethereal wish for courage and anticipation.

The blonde took several steps closer. He had his cerulean eyes sharpened, a clumsy tempo of heartbeats, and palms drenched with fused rain and sweat. He walked with the help of cold, trembling feet.

With mixed feelings of disbelief and faith, his quivering voice echoed.

"Aerith?"

The unknown figure paused. Her head turned. A pale, rain-ridden face replied his glance. Shimmers of emerald pools glowed within her eyes. Wet eyelashes batted merrily. A beam from ear to ear surfaced.

She was happy. Even in death, she did not die in hatred. She kept her battle for the planet, to the very end. Not a single moment in the Lifestream had she not chant her deepest prayers for Holy. Not a single feeble hand of her friends were not held back.

There was not one glimpse of ill sentiment. She did not blame him. She did not desire him to feel remorse of her short-coming death.

In reality, she wanted him to live. Live to witness the other lives she would miss. Live to protect what she tried to protect. Live to feel the happiness she only had for twenty-two harsh years.

With a simple smile, she vanished into thin air.

A faint sparkle ensued from where she left. It was a flower. A young, fragile sunlight-yellow poppy. It did not have anything special, yet it bloomed in the ruins like a dancing pixie.

He took the flower to his strong hands. As if a smile transpired from the petals, he beamed back. He understood. _He was forgiven_.

"Thank you, Aerith."

Cloud Strife walked back to the Highwind with newfound hope.

_**-fin-**_

.

**a/n**  
This is inspired by Princess of the Knight's fic challenge. BTW, this is set right after FFVII's ending. Please do give me feedbacks ;) Hope you enjoy it!


End file.
